City Girl in Training (7 page)

‘Is there? That could be why my family refuse to take it seriously as a career.'

‘They don't?' But even as I said it I remembered how, when I'd said how proud his mother must be, he'd said, ‘Must she?'

‘They don't.' Then, ‘Your turn.'

‘For what?'

‘Secrets. You don't think I'd tell just anyone that my family disapproves of me, do you?'

‘Well, no.'

‘So, tell me something about yourself that you've never told anyone else.'

I glanced at him, not sure how to take that, but he just lifted his eyebrows encouragingly. ‘There isn't anything. I'm an open book,' I said. And then blushed. Because of course there was something. But I couldn't… ‘Well, I'm really, really scared of spiders,' I said. I had to say something.

‘And you've managed to keep that a secret?' He knew I was hiding the real secret, but he played along with me. ‘How? Do you have a special quiet scream that no one can hear?'

‘No, really, it's true. I pretend. I've been pretending all my life. When you've got three big brothers who'll exploit any weakness, do anything to make you scream, you must never let them see that you're afraid. Even when they put them in your bed, then hang about on the landing waiting for you to let rip.'

‘Oh, charming.'

‘Spider in the bath? I just scoop it out of the window as if I'm not in the least bit concerned. And then
I take a shower…' Just talking about it made me shiver and Cal put his arm around me.

‘If you find any spiders while you're living next door to me, just come and get me.'

‘My hero,' I said, and laughed.

‘And you can tell me the other secret, the one that made you blush, when you know me better.' He didn't wait for my protest, but stopped to watch a grey squirrel hurtling around the trunk of a tall tree.

‘You're going to be late,' I warned him.

‘I know.' But he didn't hurry.

‘Tell me some more about Africa,' I said. ‘The cheetahs. When is your film going to be shown on television?'

He began to talk about what he'd seen, the horrors, the wonders, unimaginable beauty, so that I lost all sense of time until he took his arm from my shoulders, raising his hand to hail a cruising taxi. I looked around in surprise to discover that we'd reached the far side of the park, then at my watch. It was nearly half-past one.

‘Oh, good grief, look at the time!'

‘Don't worry about it. Have you got a mobile phone?' he said.

‘What? Oh, yes.' He raised his eyebrows for the number and I rattled it off. He didn't write it down, but he'd taken out a card with his name and number on it.

‘This is mine. If you have any problems,' he said, opening the taxi door, ‘if you get lost—need help with anything—call me.'

‘Problems? Me?' I said, laughing, letting go the feeling that I'd just come close to the heart of Callum McBride. ‘What can you mean?' But I took the card and tucked it safely in my bag feeling—well, there was only one word for it—cherished all over again. Then as I climbed aboard he spoke to the driver, giving him the address of the apartment and money to cover the fare.

I didn't waste my breath protesting, but leaned forward in the seat. ‘Thank you for today, Cal. And yesterday. I don't know what I'd have done without you.'

‘You'd have coped.' And he touched his lips to my cold cheek. Then, ‘I'll see you later,' he said almost abruptly, stepping back and shutting the door.

I was still feeling the roughness of his stubble as the taxi pulled away from the kerb and I twisted in my seat to look back out of the window. Still drowning in a complex combination of scents that clung to me and gave meaning to that old phrase ‘I'll never wash that cheek again'. Still wallowing in that promise of ‘later'.

But Cal wasn't following the cab with his gaze. His eyes were already lifted to a window opposite, high above street-level, his hand raised to acknowledge Jay who, impatient for his arrival, was looking out for him.

The reality of that look, the responsive wave, hit me like a fist and the air rushed out of me in a grunt of pain as real as if the assault had been physical, rather than emotional.

‘Did you say something, miss?'

‘What?' I couldn't speak. I could hardly breathe. Then, hugging myself around the waist, I said, ‘The Science Museum is near here, isn't it? Will you take me there, please?'

He glanced back at me. ‘The gent paid me to take you all the way to Chelsea.' He clearly didn't relish giving up the fare.

‘I don't care about the money. Keep it. I just want to go to the Science Museum.' I'd been away from Maybridge for less than twenty-four hours and it seemed unreal, no longer part of my life. I had to remind myself what was really important to me. Not London, not Cal, but Don and the life we'd—I'd—been planning for us for so long.

 

Sophie and Kate were sitting in the kitchen, the remains of breakfast littering the work surfaces, a pot of coffee steaming gently on the breakfast bar. ‘The electrics are back in full working order, then?' I said, putting the porcelain bowl I'd purchased in front of Kate and, at her unspoken invitation, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

‘Electrics?' she said.

‘I blew the fuses when I tried to use the grill last night. I left an electrician sorting it out this morning.'

Kate turned on Sophie. ‘You said you'd dealt with that!'

‘I did,' Sophie said, glaring at me as if I were the school snitch. ‘I stuck a note on the cooker point saying “Do Not Use”.' Then, when the silence grew too
long to ignore, ‘I suppose it must have fallen off. Sorry,' she muttered.

‘No harm done,' I said, intervening quickly before Kate exploded. ‘I fixed the fuse with a little help from the man at number seventy-two…' I had no intention of explaining how much time I'd spent with him ‘…and he kindly organised an electrician to fix the stove.'

‘He's such a sweetie,' Kate agreed. ‘It's a shame he's leaving.'

‘Leaving?' Communing with the assembly-line-perfect twin of Don's beloved 1922 Austin on display in the Science Museum hadn't prepared me for the shock of hearing that news. ‘When?'

Kate frowned. ‘It must be soon. He told me two or three weeks ago. I don't know, time flies. He doesn't own the place, he just leased it temporarily.'

‘Oh, I see. He didn't mention that he was leaving.' But of course it was obvious he wouldn't need a permanent base when he was away so much. Plans for his turtle expedition must be rather more advanced than he'd implied. ‘The thing is,' I said, preferring not to comment on whether it was a shame or not he was leaving. Eager to change the subject altogether, in fact. ‘Last night, in the dark, I managed to break a bowl. So I bought this.' And I unwrapped it and offered it to Kate. ‘I know it can't replace the original, but I hope your aunt won't be too cross.'

‘Oh, Philly, you didn't have to do that.' She looked up. ‘Aunt Cora would have understood, but Sophie
will have to refund you, since the whole incident was her fault.'

Sophie's scowl instantly deepened and I said, ‘No!' And, ‘That really isn't necessary, Sophie. But I was sort of hoping that you would do something for me. A favour. Instead,' I added, just to make it clear that I was not expecting to be reimbursed for the bowl.

She looked at me with all the suspicion of a cat regarding a fresh fall of snow. ‘What kind of favour?'

I restrained the urge to slap her and instead gave a helpless little shrug. ‘The thing is, I need some clothes.' Then, ‘Well, a whole new work wardrobe, to be honest. I haven't got a clue where to start. What I should buy. The best shops…'

‘This is urgent?' she said, brightening considerably at the prospect, but still persisting in making it sound like a real pain. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kate grin and nod, very slightly, as she acknowledged my tactics to win her sister over.

‘I'm afraid it is, rather. Is it an awful imposition?' I didn't give her a chance to answer that. ‘The thing is, I start a new job on Monday morning and I'm panicking that I'll look like a country cousin.' Her eyes, over the rim of her coffee-cup, suggested that I would always look like a country cousin. ‘I wore a uniform at the building society. Maybe I should just get something similar,' I said. ‘Navy blue, red piping, blouse with a pussycat bow?' Sophie, spluttering, was sufficient repayment for having to grovel. ‘It's very neat,' I said, beginning to enjoy myself. ‘I suppose
the girls will wear something similar at this merchant bank place?'

‘What merchant bank place?' I told her and she was off her stool and through the door before I could blink. ‘Just give me ten minutes,' she called back as she headed for her room.

‘That was absolutely wicked,' Kate said, finally able to let herself go and laugh. Quietly. ‘Have you really got a job at Bartlett's?'

‘I've been seconded to cover maternity leave. As a favour between bank executives.' Among other things. ‘It's only temporary.'

‘That doesn't matter. With access to all those upwardly mobile high-earning young bankers Sophie will be your new best friend.'

That was rather more than I'd looked for, but it had to be better than the alternative. ‘Great,' I said.

My mobile beeped, warning me that I had a text message. I took it out of my bag and turned it on. ‘Umbrella total success. Home safe? C.'

I didn't want to know that Jay was happy and, ignoring Cal's concern for my safety, I flipped my phone shut again. When I looked up I realised Kate was looking at me with that I-won't-ask-but-it's-killing-me expression. ‘It's nothing,' I said, and felt my cheeks heat up. ‘Just a friend. I'll call back later.'

‘Sure,' Kate said.

It was obvious that she didn't believe me. To be honest, I didn't quite believe it myself. I had no idea how Cal would describe our relationship, but I knew I was way beyond ‘just a friend'.

‘Oh, bother, I should have told you before, Philly. There was a call for you while you were out.'

‘Don?' I asked, a panicky feeling of guilt welling up in me like a flood. I couldn't speak to Don right now, not with my head stuffed with thoughts and feelings I didn't understand.

‘Your mother,' Kate said. ‘What a sweet woman. She said it was some dreadful time in the middle of the night, but she couldn't sleep so she thought she'd call to let you know that she and your father have arrived safely.'

‘Oh, right. Thanks.'

‘Who's Don?'

‘What?'

‘You thought the call was from someone called Don.'

‘Oh, yes.' I pulled a comic face to cover my confused feelings. ‘He's the boy next door,' I said.

‘Sweet,' she said.

At this point I usually told the entire story. How we met. The bicycle. How we intended to spend the rest of our lives together in lovely Maybridge. None of that seemed quite real any more, so I just smiled and said, ‘Yes, he is.'

Then assuaged my conscience by getting out the postcard I'd bought at the museum—a picture of the baby Austin, ‘motor for the millions'—and quickly wrote, ‘Wish you were here,' in the message space.

Then I changed the full stop to a question mark. The truth was, right at that moment I didn't really want Don ‘here'.

What I wanted was some space to work out exactly where our relationship was going and ‘Wish you were here?' had an entirely different meaning.

One I was a lot more comfortable with.

‘P
HILLY
?'

I was shattered. Broke and shattered. Sophie had shopped till I dropped. It was just as well that Don wasn't panting for a wedding—I'd just blown my trousseau savings on a new wardrobe.

I suspected the fact that this didn't seem to matter should have bothered me a lot more than it did.

Sophie, however, had apparently been super-
charged by the thrill of buying clothes on someone else's credit card. While I'd slumped in an armchair, she'd curled up kitten-like, a glass of wine in one hand, my magazine in the other, and was giggling at the tiger/mouse quiz she'd discovered while she was supposed to be helping me put away my new clothes. She'd reached the ‘blind date' question and wasn't taking ‘shut up' as an answer.

‘Come on, Philly, take a risk,' she encouraged. ‘You can't possibly be as sweet and mouse-like as you look. Not with your colouring.'

‘I can't?' Cal had said much the same thing as he'd played with my hair. Just thinking about his fingers curling through it, his knuckles brushing against my cheek, made my skin prickle.

He'd sent two more text messages, the second a slightly anxious—“Philly, where are you?” The third a simple demand— “Call me!”

I wanted to, heaven knew. Wanted to call him. Wanted to hear his voice. Be close enough to him for my senses to be charged with the scent of his skin. Feel his cool lips against my skin…

‘Hello-o-o? Are you with me?'

‘What? Oh, yes,' I lied. I wasn't even in the same room. I was sitting in a café having breakfast with Cal, his fingers on mine. In the park, tucked up close against him, my hand on the soft rubbed leather of his jacket, walking through soggy leaves. In a taxi, shivering at the touch of his jaw against my skin as he'd kissed my cheek, lingering just long enough to give me ideas…

I wanted to call him so much. Wanted his voice grating softly against my ear…

I realised Sophie was looking at me a little oddly and I pulled myself together. ‘I'm thinking,' I said.

‘It's a quiz in a magazine, Philly. Not Mastermind.'

No, and twenty-four hours ago I wouldn't have thought twice about the answer. I'd have immediately plumped for ‘e'. I had a boyfriend back home. But Don had faded from my mind like a photograph left out in the sun. All I wanted to do was switch on my mobile and check to see if there was another text message from Cal.

All that stopped me was the way he'd looked up at the window where Jay had been waiting for him. He might be thinking about me. Worrying about me. But he was with Jay.

‘Put her down for the boyfriend back home.' Kate, stretched out flat on the sofa with a pair of cold tea bags over her eyes in preparation for another big night with her barrister, was clearly tired of the whole thing. ‘She's going to marry the boy next door.'

‘Are you?' Sophie asked, unflatteringly astonished. ‘I mean actually engaged, or anything? You're not wearing a ring.'

No, I wasn't. Not engaged. Not even ‘anything'. And remembering my determination to turn my life around, become a tiger, I said, ‘To be honest, the boy next door is more interested in his car than in me.'

I'd meant it as a joke, but as I said the words I realised that it wasn't remotely funny, it was true. I'd devoted years of my life to Don while he'd devoted
his to an unending line of decrepit vehicles. Infatuated from the first moment I'd set eyes on him, I was the dream girlfriend. Never demanding, always there—he'd never had to make the slightest effort to hold my attention. Okay, so that wasn't his fault, it was mine. But, put to the test, he still hadn't bothered.

‘Maybe you should put me down as an “a”,' I said, with a mirthless grin.

Kate, startled, lost the tea bags as she turned to look at me. Sophie, missing the irony, grinned right back. ‘Excellent choice,' she said. ‘You've got an hour to get ready. Wear something sexy. Tony adores cuddly girls with lots of hair and minimal clothes.'

What?

Minimal clothes?

Whoa!

‘Tony? Who's Tony?' I asked, overlooking the ‘cuddly' as my bravado collapsed in a huddle and the ‘tiger' in me bypassed kitten and turned into pure mouse.

‘He's just a friend. Nice bloke. You'll like him.'

‘Nice!' Kate covered her face with her hands and groaned. ‘I thought you were a safe “e”, Philly, or I'd have warned you. For future reference the only other answer to that question is option “d”.'
You do not do blind dates.
'

Consumed with relief at being rescued from my own stupidity—I appeared to have left my brain behind when I'd packed—I managed a laugh. ‘Well, actually, no, I don't—'

‘Tony is fun,' Sophie cut in.

‘Yeah, right. That's why the only dates he ever gets are blind ones.'

‘Okay, I'll admit he's a bit
boisterous
—' for a moment they appeared to forget I was there ‘—when he's had a few drinks. But he's a really, really nice guy beneath it all. Shy, even.'

‘Oh, please!'

‘Actually…' I repeated and they both turned to me. ‘I don't have anything sexy to wear.' Fortunately, Sophie had been single-minded in her pursuit of the perfect business suit and, despite the tempting displays of Christmas party clothes, had refused to be distracted by anything remotely frivolous. ‘I didn't really plan on…um…dating—'

As I said the word, it occurred to me that I'd never actually been out on a date. What did you do? What did you talk about? Don's favourite topic of conversation was the Austin's bodywork. With a ‘minimal clothes' dress code, it seemed likely that Tony's interest in bodywork would be rather more personal.

If it had been Cal I'd have had no problems. Talking was easy. So was silence. And he could get as personal as he liked…

Did I say I was a fool? Triple that.

Fool, fool, fool.

‘Oh, it's not a
date
,' Sophie said quickly. ‘There'll be a crowd of us and you can't spend your first Saturday night in London on your own.' My face must have betrayed my doubts because she rushed on, ‘Don't worry about clothes. We'll fix you up with
something. And you can give those delicious high heels you bought a trial run.'

I interpreted that as, ‘I spent my afternoon helping you out. It's time to return the favour.'

‘But…' About to say that I wasn't planning on having a good time, I realised just how wet that would sound. It
was
Saturday night and Don would be down the pub with the rest of the gang. I trusted him—no one knew better than me just how trustworthy he was—but he was a good-looking guy and there wouldn't be any shortage of girls eager to make sure he wasn't lonely. Realising that Sophie and Kate were waiting for me to finish, I shook my head. ‘Nothing,' I said. Then swallowed. Hard.

An hour later I was standing in my room wearing next-to-nothing in black that had been made for someone a lot less ‘cuddly' than me and a pair of four-inch heels that Sophie had insisted were a ‘must' to complete my sharp new City-girl image. Absolutely
me
.

My reflection didn't look like any ‘me' that I recognised.

I tugged on the stretch-fabric of the dress in an attempt to cover another inch of traffic-stopping bosom. I didn't dare tug at the hem. The dress was only staying put by the snugness of fit and pure will-power. Tony was going to take one look at me and think Christmas had come a month early.

And I was the turkey.

All that was missing was a pair of flashing ‘Santa' earrings.

I had three options. One, I could beef up my outfit with a smile and go along with Sophie's idea of a good time in the interests of promoting flat-sharing harmony. Tony's idea was something else.

Two, since he liked girls with ‘lots of hair', I could take a pair of scissors to mine. It wasn't as if I were deeply attached to it. At least, I hadn't been until Cal had twisted it around his fingers and told me it was beautiful…

Was that why I'd gone to so much trouble, plastering on the conditioner so that the frizz had been smoothed out into tiny curls? Because we might meet in the hall…share the lift…

I dismissed the idea as ridiculous. I wasn't thinking about Cal. Why would I care what he thought? He didn't care about me. He just thought I was a stupid girl who couldn't stay out of trouble for five minutes. Couldn't manage a simple taxi ride without someone to hold my hand.

My fingers bunched into a fist as if to fend off the memory of his palm against mine.

He hadn't even bothered to tell me he was moving out. Imminently. The way he'd talked about the turtle project, I'd assumed it was months away.

I made a determined effort to ignore the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had more immediate problems.

Three options? Oh, right. I could try the final choice in the quiz and use my mobile to phone a friend to bail me out. Unfortunately, since there was only one other person I knew in London—and I'd not
only strained his Galahad potential to the limit but had been ignoring his messages all afternoon—that was a non-starter.

‘The taxi's here,' Sophie said, putting her head around the door. ‘Are you ready?' Then, ‘Wow! You look totally knockout. Tony won't believe his luck when I turn up with you!'

‘He'd better not get too excited,' I said. Ready. And right out of options.

I picked up the long and supremely elegant black coat I'd bought that afternoon. It had seemed an incredible extravagance at the time, but at least it would keep me covered from neck to ankle. I might not take it off all night.

Sophie, anxious to go, hustled me out of the flat before I could put it on and punched the button to summon the lift.

I had an arm through one sleeve as the doors slid back to reveal Cal. He looked tired and irritable and there was a moment of total silence as he took in my appearance. ‘My god, Philly…' he finally managed.

I tried to speak but my mouth was glued shut. How did he do it? How did he know when I was in trouble and come racing to my rescue like the Seventh Cavalry?

He stepped from the lift, reached for my hand, holding it away from me so that he could get the whole effect. My expensive new coat slithered to the floor, unnoticed.

‘You look…' He apparently couldn't think of the words to express what he thought I looked like, which
was perhaps as well. Instead he stepped forward, put his arm around my waist and pulled me hard against his body. The air rushed out of me, leaving me breathless—something was leaving me breathless ‘Different,' he said. Then, presumably to stop me from demanding to know in what way ‘different', he kissed me. And this time it wasn't on the cheek.

I thought I'd been kissed. Don and I had practised that bit quite extensively—although not much recently, I had to admit—and I was certain I knew all there was to know about kissing. I was wrong.

This was new. Cal's mouth was possessive, passionate, thorough, taking full advantage of the element of surprise.

And with one hand holding me firmly about my waist and the other cradling my head, fingers tangled in my hair, I wasn't going anywhere until he'd finished what he'd started.

That was okay. I wasn't in any hurry for him to stop.

Sophie, though, doubtless mindful of the waiting taxi, eventually cleared her throat pointedly and Cal let me go. At least he raised his head a couple of inches and, while still close enough so that Sophie couldn't see, he raised one eyebrow a fraction. Just enough to let me know that this was indeed no more than the rescue I'd hoped for. And that he hadn't entirely lost his mind.

He was alone there. Mine was nowhere to be found as he finally straightened, releasing my head but still
keeping a firm grip on my waist as he said, ‘You can't possibly go out like that.'

‘I can't?'

Yes!

‘Not unless I'm there to take care of you.'

‘You're more than welcome to join us,' Sophie said quickly.

‘Thanks, but it's been a long day.' And keeping his arm firmly about my waist, he turned to face her. ‘But if that's your taxi downstairs, I have to tell you that the driver is getting impatient.'

‘Oops! I must run.'

‘I'm sorry,' I said, turning to Sophie with reluctance, anticipating major irritation at having her captive ‘blind date' hijacked in this fashion, but she was grinning broadly.

‘Crumbs, Philly,' she said. ‘Don't apologise. I was sure you were going to be the world's most boring flatmate. I mean, any girl who's still living at home at your age would have to be, right?'

Right.

She gave Cal an appreciative look. ‘But I have to admit that in your shoes I wouldn't have been in any hurry to leave home, either.' And with that, she stepped into the lift. ‘I'd say have fun,' she said, reaching for the ground-floor button, ‘but it's clear that you don't need any encouragement.'

‘What will you tell Tony?' I asked, stopping the lift door as it began to close. My conscience getting the better of common sense.

‘Absolutely nothing. I was keeping you as a sur
prise and I'm not going to break his heart by telling him how near he came to meeting the girl of his dreams.'